Settling Out of Court
by The Tenth
Summary: After Edgeworth has one too many drinks, Phoenix insists on driving him home to sleep it off.  The unspoken tension between the two friends only escalates as they discuss their failed love lives. Then virginal Edgeworth makes his move...   YAOI


_**Warnings: YAOI erotica**_

_Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated!_

Settling Out of Court

I smiled and raised my bottle of Sam Adams to Edgeworth. "I've got to hand it you, man. You presented a solid case today. I never would have guessed the poison was in the victim's _sunscreen._"

Edgeworth gave a halfhearted shrug and took another sip of his cranberry vodkatini. His face looked strangely haggard in the fluorescent blue lighting of the bar.

We were tipping back drinks at our traditional post-verdict hangout spot: a cantina called El Cielo. Edgeworth was acting moody—more than usual, I mean—and I couldn't quite figure out why.

I figured I should change the subject. "So, uhh, there's a high school reunion in August. Are you going to go?"

Edgeworth shot me a look that said I should know better than to ask. "What do _you _think, Wright?"

I shrugged one shoulder.

"Yes," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I'm sure I'll go to the reunion. And while we're at it, why don't we go to a tailgate party and throw the old pigskin around? Then we can go TP someone's yard like Butz was always suggesting."

I pity the man who turns his nose up at a tailgate party, but the mention of Butz's pranks put a smile on my face. I chuckled, but the gloom surrounding Edgeworth thickened.

"You want another cocktail?" I know it's a cheap trick, but nothing lubricates honesty quite like booze.

"I thought the winner was supposed to buy rounds for the loser," Edgeworth said.

"Naw, I got this." I waved to the bartender a few yards away and gestured for another round. She nodded her understanding.

"Anyway," I continued. "I'm not too broken up about losing. My client was definitely guilty." There was no way to fight Edgeworth's tidal wave of evidence this time.

"What difference does it make?" Edgeworth asked. The bartender slid him another rose-colored vodkatini on a fresh cocktail napkin and plunked a cold beer in front of me.

"What do you mean?" I laughed. "I want to see justice done. If a person is guilty, they should be sentenced that way."

Edgeworth took a long drink of his cocktail, then shook his head. "It's your job as an attorney to put your client's interests first, whether they're guilty or not."

"You helped me during the Engarde case," I reminded him.

"And I still feel guilty over it. That was a clear case of conflict of interest."

I frowned and nursed my beer. "So?"

"So?" Edgeworth echoed, annoyed. "You could get disbarred for that. Or slapped with a malpractice suit."

I shook my head. "But how can you overlook what you know is true?"

"Everyone deserves unbiased representation. If you feel uncomfortable with that, then you've chosen the wrong profession." He drained his glass.

I bit back a remark about Edgeworth's habit of coaching witnesses. Unbiased my ass.

"If you really want to see criminals punished, you should become a prosecuting attorney," he suggested.

I chuckled at the thought. "No way. I'm not aggressive enough. Pretty much all my past girlfriends said I'm too much of a pushover."  
>Edgeworth regarded me over the rim of his cocktail glass. "Maybe you're chasing after the wrong sort of woman."<p>

I sighed. "Probably. I always seem to go for ladies who are way out of my league." The best I could usually hope for was being 'the rebound guy,' a boyfriend status doomed to die in six weeks or less.

Oddly enough, my longest relationship to date was with a guy back in my bi-curious college days. A cute bespectacled classmate named Noah rescued me from failing calculus with his patient tutoring. We ended up screwing around a little during one of our late-night study sessions, and started dating. Afraid of what other people would think, I insisted we keep our relationship secret. I think Noah was a little hurt by that, but we spent eight very happy months together.

Then we both became busy—him with grad school applications and me with my bar exam. We were so overwhelmed, we hardly spoke for a month, and during that time I started getting anxious about the future. Didn't I want to settled down and get married one day? Bring a nice girl home to meet my folks? You could call it an identity crisis, or you could call it cowardice—either would be true—but when I had free time again, I held Noah at a distance and stopped returning his calls. I feel like a real asshole about it in hindsight.

But since I left Noah for no other reason than because he was a man, I told myself I must be straight. Ever since, I've stuck with women and had miserable luck with them. Maybe it's karma for the awful way I left my college boyfriend.

Just thinking about it was depressing, so I quickly turned my thoughts back to Edgeworth. "Maybe I just have rotten luck," I said. "The women I like usually don't even notice me."

Edgeworth gave a derisive snort.

"Like you're any better!" I shot back. "You're too damn picky. I've never once seen you go on a date, even though you've got a whole fan club lined up outside your door."

"Who?" Edgeworth asked with a sneer. "The fangirl medium that's always following you around? That geriatric chatterbox? I've got higher standards than that."

"Then what _is_ your type, smart guy?"

Edgeworth just looked at me in silence.

When he didn't take his eyes off me for a full ten seconds, I squirmed in my seat. The man had the steely gaze of a hawk observing a field mouse. "What?" I said. "I just asked what your type is."

Edgeworth sighed. "If you have to ask, Wright, you don't get it." He straightened his lacy cravat and pulled out his wallet to start settling his tab.

I was wounded by his abrupt move to leave. "You're going already?"

"Yes." He pulled four twenties out of his billfold and tossed them on the bar. When he stood, he swayed a little on his feet, then leaned against the bar to cover it up.

"Hey, are you sure you're good to drive?" I asked.

"Of course," Edgeworth said primly. In spite of his sober words, I noticed a faint flush across his cheeks. When he tried to return his wallet to his back pocket, it slipped from his fingers and dropped onto the floor.

I hopped off my seat in a flash and scooped up the wallet before he could.

"Thank you," Edgeworth said, holding out his hand expectantly.

I held the wallet close to my shoulder without offering it to him. "Ah-ah," I said. "I'll trade this for your keys. You shouldn't be driving."

Edgeworth rolled his eyes impatiently. "You've been drinking with me this whole time."

"This is only my second beer," I said, jerking my thumb towards the half-empty bottle on the bar. "And I nursed the first one for at least an hour. Let me take you home."

Edgeworth's expression darkened. "I'm not going to leave my Porsche in a bad neighborhood overnight."

"Okay," I said with a wicked grin. "_I'll _drive your car, then. I don't mind leaving my old Honda out overnight."

"No, Wright. You're not driving my Porsche." He made a grab for his wallet, but I held it out of his reach.

"Neither are you," I said. "You want me to call Gumshoe to give you a DUI or are you going to come peacefully? You can crash on my couch if you want, but I'm not letting you go until you sleep it off."

He studied me with an unreadable expression for a moment, thinking his secret Edgeworthy thoughts. After a moment, he pulled his keys from his pocket. "Fine. Here."

I surrendered his wallet and snatched up his keys. As we headed outside together, I rubbed my thumb over the shield-shaped Porsche keychain like it was a lucky talisman.

When we got to the car, I slid into the driver's seat with all the nervous excitement of a boy who had just found his first nudie mag. Edgeworth didn't let _anyone_ drive his precious car, yet here I was: the ass of my cheap American suit sliding onto expensive German leather. I adjusted the mirrors and sighed happily. "I could get used to this."

"Don't," Edgeworth said. He propped his elbow in the passenger side door and stared out the window as I backed out of the parking stall and pulled out onto the street.

We rode in silence for a while, then Edgeworth said abruptly, "Do you think I come across as cold?"

Jeez, how do you answer a question like that? "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Do I strike you as someone who is unapproachable?"

I thought 'cold' and 'unapproachable' were both apt descriptions, but I didn't want to tell him so. I liked Edgeworth the way he was, prickles and all. Telling him to lighten up would be like telling Larry Butz to be more serious. What kind of friend would I be if I was always trying to change people?

Edgeworth turned towards me with a glum expression. I was taking too long to answer and he probably assumed the worst.

"Quit feeling sorry for yourself," I said. "You've got your own fan club. Clearly you're doing something right."

"It's irrelevant to be attractive to people you don't want," Edgeworth said.

"Point taken." For some reason I seem to attract girls who are way too young for me. It's a little flattering at first, but ultimately it turns out to be a hassle. It's hard to disentangle myself without hurting anyone's feelings.

"You said you usually fall for women who are out of your league," Edgeworth said. "How long do you wait for someone to notice you before you give up?"

"First of all, you don't just _wait _and then give up," I said. "You've got to do something to win them over." It felt kind of cool to have Edgeworth to ask me for relationship advice. Even when we were boys in school together, he never talked about his love life. I guess six vodkatinis is the magic number for getting him to finally open up.

"How do you do that? Win someone over, I mean," Edgeworth asked. He kept a straight face, but even in the darkness of the car, I could see he was embarrassed to ask such a basic question. The blush on his cheeks was more than the alcohol alone could account for. "Eyes on the road, Wright," he snapped when he caught me looking at him.

"Right," I returned my eyes to the dimly-lit street ahead of me. "I think people make romance more complicated than it needs to be. When you get down to it, courtship is all about finding out what a person wants, then giving it to 'em. If you can't do that much, then the relationship was doomed from the beginning anyway."

Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Edgeworth turn to look at me. "That was… profound in its simplicity."

I couldn't help but smile and sit a little taller in my seat. I don't think anyone's ever called me 'profound,' let alone someone hard to impress like Edgey. "Yeah," I said, feeling rather cool and knowledgeable. "Forget about mind games and all that mumbo-jumbo. You just gotta take the initiative sometimes."

Edgeworth nodded, but he still looked a little pale and queasy at the thought. Maybe it was just the sickly light of fluorescent streetlamps.

"I know you're not shy about speaking your mind," I said. "You've got the balls to get things started and that's half the battle. You just need to get past all the restrictions you put on yourself. Just go for it. Even if you get shot down, at least then you'll know you tried."

I pulled in to the underground parking lot beneath my apartment complex and slid the sexy red sports car into my reserved parking space.

"You sure it's going to be safe here?" Edgeworth asked.

"Yeah. There's a security guy on duty all the time."

We both climbed out and he gave his car one last concerned look as he followed me up to my condo. Edgeworth had been to my place once before when I threw Maya a birthday party and she insisted that Edgeworth come. He only put in a brief appearance, but he brought an expensive Steel Samurai figurine as a gift, which I thought was surprisingly thoughtful. Knowing he'd already visited my place once before made it a little less awkward to have him over now.

As we trudged up the stairs to the second floor, he acted quiet and pensive. I wished he would just say whatever was on his mind, but he'd already opened up more than I'd ever expected that night. I didn't want to push my luck any further.

I handed him back his car keys while I fished my own key ring out of my pocket. "Sorry about the mess," I said as I opened the door. To my relief, I found it wasn't actually that bad inside. Even so, knowing Edgeworth's own meticulous standards, I couldn't help but feel like the dirty dishes on the counter and a few magazines strewn around made the place look a little trashy.

"Make yourself at home," I said, tossing my coat across an ottoman just inside the door. "I'll get you something to sleep on."

"Don't go out of your way," Edgeworth said. "The couch will be fine." He took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his cuffs.

"No trouble," I said. "I keep a futon in the closet. I'll go get it." I left Edgeworth alone and went to the linen closet in the hallway where I had an extra set of clean sheets. They had lavender hearts all over them, but I didn't think Edgeworth would mind. Like the futon, I'd bought them for the times when Maya stayed overnight in my living room. The futon was folded up on a high shelf and I stood on tiptoe to reach it down. My fingertips just brushed the underside of it, pulling it towards me at a mincing pace.

"Let me get that for you," a voice said right beside my ear.

I almost yelped in surprise. "Jeez! You scared me." Edgeworth loomed in the closet doorway beside me, reaching up for the futon. "I thought you were in the other room."

I lowered my hand and turned to get out of his way, but in the cramped quarters of the closet, my hand brushed the front of his slacks. It was only an instant of contact, but there was no mistaking the hard bulge I felt pressing behind his fly. My hand would have probably missed him entirely if his flagpole wasn't raised. My face suddenly burned with embarrassment, though I couldn't say whether it was over my clumsy touch or Edgeworth's, uhm, _edge._

"Here." He pulled the futon down and thrust it into my arms.

Without meeting his eyes, I went back to the living room, and started spreading out the futon. Edgeworth came over a moment later with the folded-up sheets. "Is it okay to use these?"

"Yup," I said, my cheeks still burning.

Edgeworth knelt beside me to spread the sheets over his bed. His knee brushed against mine and I quickly got to my feet. "I'm going to make some decaf," I babbled nervously.  
>"Do you want some?"<p>

Without waiting for an answer, I walked over to my meager kitchenette and buried my face in a cabinet to look for coffee filters.

What was that all about? Was Edgeworth actually aroused just now or was that just a combination of friction and bad timing? I still get random erections from time to time, especially if the weather is warm or I'm wearing boxers. Edgeworth always struck me as the type to wear briefs, but I could picture him either way. I tried to think back to that moment of contact and recall which was more likely…

Oh, what the HELL? All that thinking about friction and erections and hand brushing against pants was causing a stir of my own. I tried to think about something else.

When the coffee maker was burbling away and couldn't procrastinate any longer, I returned to the living room. Edgeworth was sitting on the couch looking vaguely bored, flipping through a magazine. Good. We could just let this blow over.

I flopped down on the couch next to him. "I'm not sure how well they'd fit you, but I've got some pajamas—"

Edgeworth leaned over and gave me a peck on the corner of my mouth. I turned towards him in surprise and he planted his mouth firmly against my lips.

My eyes went wide, but his were closed. I noticed a dozen things in a chaotic collage: Edgeworth's brow furrowed in concentration, his lips moving clumsily against mine, the timid stroke of his tongue, and the uncoiling excitement inside my briefs. His kisses were eager but fumbling, like he'd never done it before.

And then a final piece of evidence clicked into place: Edgeworth had asked how long he should wait on a love interest before finally giving up. Had he been waiting for _me_ all this time? Was this Edgeworth's first kiss?

Ever since we were kids, there were countless little hints that made me wonder if Edgeworth liked me "that way." I'd catch him staring at me sometimes, but if I smiled at him, he would just scowl and walk away, so I figured I was mistaken. I didn't know any gay men at the time, but the stereotyped characters I'd seen on TV were usually cheerfully flamboyant and Edgeworth was nothing like that. I told myself that it was all just wishful thinking, and pushed the possibility out of my mind. But now…

I shifted position on the couch and kissed him back. I could feel Edgeworth relax, relieved to surrender control to a more experienced guide. Out of habit, I leaned him back against the couch like a girl and covered his mouth with mine, teaching him by example.

Beneath my stunned surprise, I felt a strong pressure to perform. It was Edgeworth's first kiss and I wanted it to be good. A prideful part of me felt intensely flattered that he wanted _me_. There was no time to consider if this was a good idea. We had to keep going. Our friendship might never recover if I rejected him at this vulnerable juncture. Besides, my body was greedily enjoying every moment.

I felt dizzy and light-headed as heart pounded blood southward. My cock was so hard it ached, and Edgeworth's curious hand found it, sliding his fingers downward, and cupping the head in his palm. My hips moved forward, pressing into the heel of his hand with delicious friction.

He unbuttoned my slacks with a flick of his thumb and pulled my zipper down. I wanted to keep kissing, but Edgeworth broke contact so he could watch as he hitched down my dark blue briefs and drew out my erection.

He put a splayed hand across my chest, pushing me back into the cushions. Then he slid off the couch onto one knee and lowered his head until I could feel his humid breath against my groin.

Oh, god! Was this really happening? Should I stop this?

Edgeworth gripped the base of my cock with his first three fingers, caressing its length in short determined strokes. Any thoughts of stopping evaporated when I felt the touch of that timid tongue again, this time to where I needed it most.

His hot moist mouth slid down to engulf me completely and I groaned aloud in pleasure. I clenched his hair in my fingers, mussing up his perfect bangs as his head bobbed up and down. He sucked me with vigorous enthusiasm, the circle of his fingers gripping me tight and moving in time with his mouth. Although he was a clumsy kisser, he was extremely good at this. He might lack experience, but a decade of late-night fantasies seemed to have given him plenty of good ideas as far as technique.

I drowned in that hot wet mouth, gripping his hair as I spiraled closer to climax. I realized that I was moaning in time with his thrusting mouth. Loud enough to wake the neighbors, but I didn't care.

"Edgeworth," I panted breathlessly. "Miles, I'm gonna—"

I'm sure he heard my warning, but he didn't stop the delicious suction. He only stroked me faster and bobbed his head in long exaggerated lunges.

I gripped him tight and gushed in his mouth; it felt like it would never stop. Edgeworth kept his lips wrapped around me, his eyes serenely closed until I shuddered out the last echoes of orgasm and fell back onto the couch.

In a daze, I watched as he pulled a monogramed handkerchief out of his pocket and delicately wiped his mouth with it.

My body felt heavy and drunk with pleasure, but I refused to lose momentum. I dropped onto my knees on the floor beside Edgeworth and kissed him again, tasting the salty bitter residue of my cream in his mouth.

The floor was carpeted but hard. Wordlessly, we both fumbled towards the futon, our hands groping and mouths exploring the whole way. As soon as he lay back on the sheets, I hungrily opened his pants and yanked his silk briefs down. His erection sprang free, hard and defiant as an upraised fist. His shaft was incredibly thick and dark red with arousal, his glans taut as a drumhead.

I grabbed his cock and gave him a few swift strokes. He cried out and put his hands over mine to stop me.

"No, no," he gasped breathlessly.

At first I worried I'd done something wrong, but then I saw he was about to come at any second. His face was flushed and he grimaced with effort to keep himself under control.

Slow was fine by me. I could think of plenty of other things to do to him. I slid his slacks off the rest of the way until only one pant leg encircled his ankle and the rest of his lower half was bare.

I slid a hand up his belly, hooking my thumb in the row of buttons and pulling his shirt upward as I went. He had a flat muscular stomach that displayed an impressive six-pack when he moved. My mouth watered at the sight and I couldn't resist laying a few wet kisses on his abs. Edgeworth groaned and squirmed as I worked my kisses downward and his cock brushed against the side of my throat.

While my mouth had him distracted, I slid my other hand upwards along his inner thigh, towards the warm cleft of his buttocks. His body tensed at the touch of my exploring fingers, so I slowed down, kneading his buttocks while drawing kisses across his belly. When his body relaxed against mine again, I gently searched deeper. The pads of my first two fingers swept across his most tender spot.

Edgeworth groaned and shivered at my touch. His brow was still furrowed with the effort of self-control, his expression almost pained.

I guess that bi-curious phase of mine back in college was now bi-confirmed. Screw modesty. After all we'd already done, I wanted to see. I lifted my head from Edgeworth's navel and parted his thighs with a nudge of my forearm, stealing a glance at the pink and plumped entrance that lay before me.

I discretely spat into my hand and smoothed the moisture onto him. His body was still clenched, but I pushed my middle finger into him with slow insistent pressure. When he relaxed his grip a little bit, I stroked it gently in and out.

He made a muffled moaning sound as if in alarm, but pressed his hips against my hand for more. I made making a tiny 'come here' gesture with my finger to excite his prostate and was just about to add a second finger when Edgeworth cried out and his whole body jerked as if in pain.

Heat splashed across my face in a diagonal line and my left eye was suddenly burning. I clapped my free hand over my eye and withdrew my finger, wondering what the hell just happened.

I looked to Edgeworth and his face was white with horrified embarrassment. Immediately I knew why my eye hurt like hell: a virgin's eager misfire. It was kind of cute, really. A little chuckle escaped me at the sight of Edgeworth's mortified expression. I meant to just lighten the mood and let him know it was no big deal, but he leapt off the futon in a flash and started to fumble his pants back on.

"Hey, it's fine," I said. I chuckled again, hoping we could laugh it off, maybe even take things slow and try again. I wiped the cum off my face with the sheet.

Edgeworth whirled on me, his face red with fury. "Are you laughing at me? Is this funny to you?"

"No, no," I said. "It's cool. No big deal." I smiled to reassure him, but I think that just made him angrier.

He grabbed his jacket in a clenched fist, and stormed towards the door. His shirt was still untucked and his pants were buttoned but unzipped.

"Whoah. Hey, stop," I pleaded when I realized he really was about to leave. Jeez, he was still probably too buzzed to drive safely, too. I lowered my hand from my eye, but it immediately started burning like hell until I pressed my hand against it again. I tried wiping the burning goo from my eyelashes with the sheet and stumbled after him.

Edgeworth didn't even meet my gaze from the doorway. His eyes swept my apartment with one last look of reproach, then he slammed the door behind him.

"Son of a-!" Half-blind with one eye still squinted shut, I stumbled out into the hallway. Too late. The door to the stairwell clicked closed and I could hear the echoes of Edgeworth's fleeing footsteps behind it.


End file.
